


Adoration

by meetmeatthecoda



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Lizzington - Freeform, Romance, Valentine's Day Prompts, from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22768837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: Valentine's Day prompts from tumblr! Each chapter is a new prompt. Content will vary but ratings should all be T and under. All Lizzington.
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 26
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**3\. Ice Cream**

“How was everything, sir, madam?”

“Everything was excellent, as always, thank you, Andre,” Red answers the waiter smoothly, not taking his eyes off Liz as he does so.

And Liz has a feeling that Red is referring more so to their flirtatious banter, blatant bedroom eyes, and the high stakes game of footsie they’ve been playing during their romantic Valentine’s Day dinner, and a little less about the delicious French cuisine the waiter is currently clearing from in front of them.

(But Andre the waiter doesn’t need to know that.)

“Would the happy couple care for anything else tonight? Perhaps dessert? Soufflé, cheesecake, ice cream?”

Red turns to her. “Lizzie?”

“I think some ice cream would be lovely, Andre, thank you,” answers Liz, shooting him a winning smile.

“Certainly, madam. And what flavor would you like?”

Liz thinks for a moment, feeling Red watching her curiously as well. “Something fruity, I think. Do you have strawberry?”

Red raises his eyebrows in surprise and, if she’s not mistaken, mild disapproval.

Well.

“We do, madam,” Andre affirms. “And for you, Mr. Reddington?”

“Oh, something befitting of the day, please, Andre,” Red says pointedly. “Something indulgent. What do you suggest?”

“Well, our house special for the evening is chocolate truffle,” Andre offers.

“That sounds perfect,” Red answers with a satisfied grin.

Andre nods and hurries off, leaving them alone once again.

Red wastes no time. “Strawberry, Lizzie, really?”

Liz huffs playfully. “And what’s wrong with that, may I ask?”

“Fruit flavors are for warm weather, Lizzie, not Valentine’s Day,” Red says, sounding positively aghast at the suggestion. “Tonight is a night for something much more special. Indulgence. _Decadence_.”

And his voice _sounds_ like chocolate as he practically purrs the last word, his eyes dark, promising, and slightly dangerous. Liz smiles back, unafraid.

“And there’s nothing romantic about strawberries?” she questions delicately, reaching for her champagne. “I seem to recall substantial evidence to the contrary on that night we spent in Paris.” She takes a sip from her flute, blinking innocently at him.

Red barks a deep laugh, clearly reveling in the memory. “Ah, I seem to remember the addition of whipped cream in that particular instance, Lizzie, a circumstance I welcome at any time, I’ll have you know.”

Liz laughs in response, opening her mouth to reply – something about swinging by the corner store on the way back to the house – but stopping short as she spies Andre approaching the table with two large dishes of ice cream. He silently places the dishes and spoons in front of their recipients and makes a graceful retreat.

Liz picks up her spoon as Red wastes no time in digging enthusiastically into his dessert, plucking a truffle from his ice cream and popping it into his mouth, closing his eyes and uttering a low moan as it melts in the warm cavern of his mouth.

“Good?” Liz asks unnecessarily, watching him through lowered lids, not paying the least bit of attention to her own spoon as it brings a scoop of strawberry ice cream to her mouth.

Red opens his eyes to gaze directly at her. “Just… _decadent_ , Lizzie,” he growls, and she feels his foot slide suggestively up her calf as he speaks.

Liz shivers in delight, a reaction that has little to do with the cold ice cream now in her mouth, and more to do with anticipation of the night to come.

“Better than strawberry, I presume?”

“Oh, naturally,” he murmurs assuredly, though she catches a curious glance to her own dish, and she smirks knowingly. His chocolate does look tempting.

Though she’d never admit it to him.

“What’s so great about chocolate anyway?” Lizzie says, her voice bored and uncaring, even as her spoon drifts across the table towards his dish. Red catches the movement, of course, and grins at her, his own spoon starting to gravitate towards her side of the table.

“And strawberry, who would want those pesky little fruit pieces, seeds and all?” As he speaks, his spoon makes it to her bowl, moving with a fell swoop to steal a spoonful, leaving pleasing dark streaks in her otherwise pink dessert.

(Liz rather likes the look of it.)

“And truffles, too sweet, just too much chocolate,” Liz says sadly, shaking her head a little, as she swipes a generous scoop of his chocolate, making sure to snag a truffle as well, accidentally leaving a strawberry piece in his dish as she does so.

She smirks.

They try each other’s desserts at the same time, holding a stare all the while, neither willing to make a concession.

(And it wouldn’t be the first time both of them were too proud to admit defeat.)

Red is the first to break the silence.

“Though I must admit,” he murmurs, his voice persuasive and warm, despite the cold ice cream turning his lips an appealing shade of pink. “Strawberry does have its virtues.”

Liz hums in response, grinning in victory. “And I’ll agree, there is a time and a place for a little…decadence.”

(And she takes pleasure in kneading the inside of his thigh with her foot, heels abandoned under the table.)

“Oh, I’ll say…” he growls, eyes turning dark as his hand reaches across the table to tangle his fingers with hers. “Finish your ice cream, my valentine. I’ve got plans for you.”

Liz grins, returning to her dish of strawberry with gusto and more than a little urgency.

She’s just remembered they have a can of whipped cream in the fridge.

Wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

**27\. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”**

“You know we don’t have to do anything special for Valentine’s Day, right?”

Liz is half out the door, bag in one hand and coat falling out of the other, late for work on February the 13th. Red is close behind her with a thermos of coffee, lovingly prepared while she was in the shower, trying unsuccessfully to brush her teeth and wash her hair at the same time. They trade items, working together like a well-oiled machine, Liz accepting her thermos while Red takes her coat, holding it open for her to slide her arms into, ever the consummate gentlemen, even as she’s leaving him in their apartment to rush off to work.

“All right,” he says mildly, surprising her.

Liz stops short with one arm in her coat, turning back to glance at him in surprise. “What, no persuasive speeches about the beauty of Maui this time of year?”

“Well,” Red eases her other arm gently into her coat, tilting his head from side to side as he considers her question. “It certainly is gorgeous in February, warm water, hot sun, enough alcohol to truly incapacitate a full-grown man –”

“—Red—”

“—but, if you have something against romantic tropical vacations on Valentine’s Day… then fine. Nothing special this year,” he finishes with an easy smile, reaching around her to open the door.

“Oh. Good,” says Liz happily, spinning in the doorway to face him. “Because after this awful week? A quiet evening at home with you is all I want.”

Red smiles warmly and leans forward to give her a soft kiss, lips lingering languidly and staying close to her even as he pulls back. “That sounds perfect to me,” he murmurs. “Have a good day at work, sweetheart. Be safe.”

“I will,” Liz promises, shooting him a smile as she heads reluctantly down the hallway. “And maybe put Maui on the bucket list, just in case!” she calls over her shoulder.

Liz hears Red laughing as he shuts their apartment door and she grins to herself all the way down to the car.

* * *

Liz lets the door slam behind her as she shuffles into the apartment the next night, exhausted and morbidly curious as to what Red, despite what she told him, has planned for the night.

Because it is Valentine’s Day. And he’s nothing if not ambitious.

She sighs.

“Red?” she calls out cautiously, shedding her bag and coat somewhere near the hall table. “I’m home!”

“In the living room, sweetheart.”

Liz frowns, kicking off her heels in the entrance hall and walking slowly towards the living room, wondering what on earth she’s going to see as she turns the corner, tentative and peeking –

But there’s just Red, sitting calmly at the far end of the couch, illuminated by the warm light of the floor lamp, glasses perched on his nose as he tucks a bookmark into a thick novel. Just Red.

Huh.

Liz pauses in the doorway and peers around suspiciously, looking for something more bombastic and Red-like, perhaps a human-sized chocolate bar or a serenading string quartet.

“May I ask what it is you’re looking for, Lizzie?”

She turns to him, sitting there on the couch with his feet propped on the coffee table, the very picture of innocence.

“Uh…” she shrugs a little helplessly. “Well, the unexpected, I guess.”

Red raises his eyebrows. “You did say nothing special, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah,” Liz hesitates. “I just didn’t expect you to listen to me.”

Red barks a laugh. “Well, there’s your surprise, I suppose. I did, against my better judgement, obey your wishes. Are you going to come sit down now?”

Liz laughs, pleasantly surprised. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy Red’s spontaneity – it’s one of her favorite qualities of his – but this year? She’s tired and missing him and she just wants…simple.

So, she wastes no time in hurrying over to the couch, collapsing next to him to settle quickly under his arm and against his side, her favorite spot. His hand rubs lovingly up and down her arm and Liz feels her eyes slip shut, the tension of the day slipping off her like water in Red’s arms, fatigue getting the better of her. And then she feels a tiny weight rest on her leg.

She cracks an eye open to see a small box, complete with a tiny red bow, resting inconspicuously on her knee.

Liz blinks sleepily at it.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, nothing special,” Red murmurs quietly, a meaningful smile on his face. “Open it.”

Liz looks at him for a moment longer, studying his expression, trying to find a clue as to what he’s planned. But Red just looks calmly back at her, his smile soft and his eyes tender.

“Open it, Lizzie.”

Liz gives in, plucking the box off her knee and touching the tiny red bow with a fingertip and a smile before she slowly eases the lid back, revealing something she does not expect, letting out a small gasp at what she sees there.

She can’t believe it.

It was months ago now, back in the fall, as the leaves were turning orange and brown in the trees and a chill just starting to nip in the air. Red had tugged her from the apartment on a chilly Saturday, wrapping a scarf around her neck and chattering animatedly about an art fair set up in downtown D.C. She had followed him, of course, laughing all the way, and they spent a lovely day perusing the stalls, walking slowly along the cobblestone streets, teasing and bantering as they looked at all the different handmade products for sale.

They saw hand-painted pottery and hand-sewn quilts, blown glass and mosaics, huge beautifully painted canvases that made Red pause and tug at her arm, lingering over the spectacular landscapes with his fingers twitching to his wallet. Liz had laughed, told him they had limited wall space in their apartment and pulled him on, only to pause at a stall down the street, something catching her eye and triggering her memory.

When she was young, Liz’s high school art teacher had her classroom decorated with miniature landscape paintings. They were all over the walls of the room, hanging above the modeling clay and jars of brushes, on the sideboards by the radiator, and on the windowsill, covered with a layer of varnish to prevent the vivid colors from fading in the sun. Liz was never an artist – she excelled more at sports – but she loved to pick a different place each class to work aimlessly on her mediocre assignment and look at the miniature landscapes. The amount of detail and intricacy captivated her, and she always wanted to collect them just like her teacher did.

She clearly never got around to it, but she shared the story with Red, standing there in front of the stall, gazing at the tiny, perfect snapshots of lakes, meadows, beaches, mountains, rivers. Red had paid rapt attention to her, as always, but she had led them on and away from the stall without making a purchase, pleased and slightly melancholy after a few minutes of remembering her childhood. She had thought no more about it since then.

Red obviously had.

Because in the tiny box with the tiny bow is a tiny painting, one that must have been among the selection laid out in the stall at the art fair.

Something Red must have gone back to purchase.

It’s a beautiful beach sunset captured on a small, circular piece of tile. Liz can do nothing but stare at the incredible detail, the ocean waves made of so many different shades of blue, the beautiful sunset of orange and pink and purple, the tan sand painted with brushwork so fine that Liz feels she could sink her toes right in and sigh with pleasure.

Liz reaches blindly for Red’s hand, unable to tear her eyes from the precious painting.

“I thought since you weren’t interested in an exotic beach getaway this year,” he murmurs to her, squeezing her hand. “I could bring a little bit of the beach to you.”

That chokes her up, just poignant enough to be touching but not stale enough to be cheesy, and she’s turning her head to kiss him without a second thought, taking care to put her feelings and thanks and love into it, one hand coming up to cradle his face while the other maintains a firm grip on her present.

Liz pulls back and gives him a watery smile.

“That day at the fair…” Liz whispers, stroking his cheek. “The stall of paintings…My story?”

Red nods.

“Oh,” Liz gasps, letting out a tearful laugh. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

Red just presses a kiss to her forehead. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Lizzie.”

A happy day it is, and Liz has certainly learned something important.

Red doesn’t have to go out of his way to plan anything extraordinary.

And yet he can still manage to surprise her.


	3. Chapter 3

**10\. “That’s today?”**

“Ray, I’m back!”

Liz hangs her purse on the coat rack, steps forward to move towards the kitchen, and promptly walks face-first into something hanging from the ceiling.

“What the –”

Liz jumps back, throwing her arms up instinctively to bat around her head, hitting the mysterious obstruction and making it swing back and forth in the air with an odd fluttering sound. She frowns, squinting up at it for a moment before making out the shape of a large banner covered in curly, pink font, spelling out the words –

_Will you be my valentine?_

Liz lets out an incredulous laugh before she can stop herself, putting a hand up to cover her smile.

“Red?” she calls out again.

There’s no response but she doesn’t wait for one, crouching under the sappy sign to head towards the kitchen, turning the corner to see –

Every surface is covered with… _things_. The marble countertops, the dining table, the kitchen island, all _covered_ with colorful flowers, boxes of chocolates, more cheesy decorations of streamers on the chairs and balloons resting against the ceiling, even stuffed animals propped up against produce and utensils and holding over-sized hearts. And everything, _everything_ is a blinding shade of either red or pink, all completely garish items clearly bought in bulk from the nearest drug store Valentine’s Day display.

It’s all ridiculously, hilariously, _purposely_ over-the-top.

Liz loves it.

And there’s Red, leaning nonchalantly against the counter next to the stove, the only space _not_ taken over by tacky love-themed items, where there’s a small fondue pot, a bowl of fresh strawberries, and a bottle of champagne already poured in two beautiful glasses.

Liz lets out another joyful laugh, beaming at him, before working hard to switch gears, playfully crossing her arms and trying hard to contort her face into a frown.

“So,” she begins, casting a critical eye around the kitchen and sauntering slowly towards Red. “What’s all this for?”

Red just looks at her, his eyes dancing.

As she passes, Liz runs a hand over the soft fur of nearest stuffed animal, a cheerful-looking sloth leaning against a bunch of bananas and holding a heart proclaiming, ‘I love you slow much’. Gag-worthy. “This wouldn’t be in celebration of any particular… _day_ , would it?”

She passes a red balloon and a box of truffles to come to a stop in front of Red, who hasn’t moved from his spot against the counter. “Not…say…Valentine’s Day?”

Liz raises a playful eyebrow at him and watches closely as his face slowly transforms into a ridiculously attractive smirk.

“That’s today?”

His would-be innocent response, absolutely ridiculous in the face of the sheer _amount_ of merchandise cluttering their kitchen, makes her laugh out loud and throw her arms around his neck, ignoring all the sickeningly cute decorations in favor of kissing him thoroughly. His arms wrap around her waist with no hesitation, taking her weight and letting them both lean against the counter while he plunders her mouth and sneaks his hands under her blouse.

Liz lets herself get carried away for a blissful moment before, without warning, she reaches behind him to turn the fire off on the fondue pot, proceeding to wrap her arms around his waist and push, steering him easily towards the stairs. He goes without protest, letting her lead, his eyes dancing and his face smiling lovingly.

(He’s ridiculous. Ridiculously perfect. And she’s ridiculously in love.)

The kitchen is nice, decorated so absurdly with cheap expressions of affection, but they have more interesting things to get up to.

In their bedroom.


	4. Chapter 4

**25\. “You’re not very good at this ‘romance’ thing, are you?”**

“Clear!”

Liz watches the SWAT team swarm the inside of the warehouse, busy clearing the side rooms while she stalks through the dark corners of the main chamber, sweeping her Glock and flashlight over every inch.

Looking for Red.

He was taken again. Today. Naturally.

“Keen!” Liz hears Ressler’s brusque call. “Over here!”

Liz turns out of the main chamber and hurries towards the sound of Ressler’s voice, coming from the last room on the side hallway, the SWAT team moving easily around her.

They know not to get in her way.

She bursts into the room a second later, scanning quickly and only holstering her weapon once she confirms that the small space is empty save for Ressler, crouching on the floor next to a bloodied but conscious Red, who is propped up with his back leaning against the hard brick wall, one of his eyes swollen almost completely shut.

Liz’s heart skips a beat.

Ressler stands when he sees her, walking unhurriedly to her side. “He’s okay,” he mutters to her. “Some bruises and a pretty nasty black eye but, hey, nothing we haven’t seen before.” The last bit is said with a rueful eye roll towards the ceiling as he heads towards the door. “I’ll give you two some space.”

“Thanks, Ress.”

Liz waits until Ressler is gone before she takes a few steps forward to stand over Red, heaving a heavy sigh as she gazes down at him. At the sound of her exhalation, he tilts his head up to squint at her, as best he can through his one open eye.

They stare at each other.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Lizzie,” he offers finally, trying to sound upbeat but mostly coming across as half-hearted and flat.

Liz huffs a quiet laugh anyway, dropping down onto her knees to kneel next to him, bringing a hand up to his face to gently stroke his bloodied cheek. “You’re not very good at this ‘romance’ thing, are you?” she teases.

Red just sighs, closing his good eye at the feeling of her soft hand on his cheek. “I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

“Don’t be silly,” she mutters to him. “Despite all evidence to the contrary, I know you don’t do this on purpose.” She leans a little closer to peer at his swollen eye, gently prodding the edge of the bruise with a fingertip.

He winces.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. “The paramedics will be here soon.”

Red nods and leans his head defeatedly against the wall. “I suppose this ruins our dinner plans for the evening.”

Liz smiles, fussing pointlessly over the areas of him that are clearly uninjured, unhelpfully smoothing his vest and brushing dirt off his slacks. “That’s okay,” she assures him.

He opens his eye to squint at her, somehow managing to look appropriately skeptical with only one good eye. “We’ve been looking forward to tonight for months,” he reminds her needlessly.

“I know,” Liz says patiently, nodding and raising a hand to carefully dab at an oozing cut on his forehead. “But guess what?”

Red just raises an eyebrow at her.

She leans in. “I’d rather take care of you then go to a fancy dinner any night,” she whispers quietly, like a secret. And she leans forward to lightly, gently, lovingly, kiss his lips. “Even on Valentine’s Day.”


	5. Chapter 5

**5\. “I refuse to take part in this.”**

“Please, Ress!”

“No way, Liz, too weird. Plus, I hate Valentine’s Day.”

“Aww, come on, it’s not a big deal!”

“Nope. I refuse to take part in this.”

“Oh, just help me out, you owe me!”

“What?! I do not!”

“Yes, you do! I covered for your lazy ass with Cooper last week when you came in late, remember?”

“So what, big deal!”

“Oh, so, you weren’t stuck in traffic, after all? Were you in fact recovering from a late-night date with that cute blonde analyst? What’s her name again? Annie? Do you think Copper would be interested to know that?”

“…All right, fine. I’ll help you. But I won’t enjoy it.”

“Don’t care.”

“…”

“Thanks, Ress.”

“Sure, Keen.”

* * *

Ressler turns on the last tiny, battery-powered candle and places it into the final paper boat, pushing it out gently to float on the surface of the small lake with all the others.

“Jeez, Keen, you got enough candles? I don’t think Smokey the Bear would like this very much.”

“They’re LEDs, asshole.”

“Whatever.”

Now that all the candles are afloat, Ressler steps back to admire the view. It really looks quite nice; the sun is just starting to set, and the little boats are flickering nicely on the surface of the water. It makes the perfect scene from the bench on the bank of the lake, where Liz is currently making last minute adjustments to the rose petals scattered haphazardly over the grass and the champagne bottle chilling in the ice bucket.

It looks like something out of a particularly gag-worthy rom-com.

(And while Ressler professes to hate all things romance and lovey-dovey, even he has to admit… Keen’s done a pretty good job.)

Ressler looks over at Liz, hovering over the bench, making minute adjustments to the angle of the champagne bottle in the bucket, chewing on her lip anxiously as she does so.

Ressler rolls his eyes. “Keen,” he drawls.

She looks up, a little too startled considering they’re the only two here.

“Leave it alone, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asks uncertainly. “I want it to be perfect but –”

“Liz,” Ressler interrupts her firmly. “Relax. He’s gonna love it.”

Her face softens. “Thanks, Ress.”

And then she jumps again, this time at the sound of crunching tires.

“He’s here!” she exclaims, looking so girlishly excited that Ressler can’t help but grin a little. “You remember what to do, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” Ressler mumbles, working hard to look more like his trademark grumpy self.

(Valentine’s Day may be stupid holiday, just a dumb excuse for capitalist jerks to sell more candy and stuffed animals, but…this is kind of fun.)

He trudges off, a little pep in his step despite his complaining. He knows that if he doesn’t intercept Reddington before he gets out of the car, Liz’ll give him hell.

“Hey, Reddington!”

Ressler sees movement behind the tinted windows of the backseat and breaks into a jog, skidding to a halt in front of the car door right as Reddington pushes it open, effectively blocking Reddington’s view of the lake with his body.

Red looks up at him in surprise, frozen halfway out of the car. “…Donald,” he greets after a long moment, audibly confused. “May I ask what it is you’re doing?”

“Sure,” Ressler nods matter-of-factly. “You gotta close your eyes and follow me over to the lake. Keen’s orders.”

Red frowns.

“I thought I was meeting Elizabeth here –”

“You are,” Ressler interrupts. “But she’s got a surprise for you. Something to do with Valentine’s Day…?”

Ressler trails off suggestively and watches as Red’s expression changes from one of mild confusion to surprise to something like…wonder.

Ressler shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “Well, you coming or what? She’s excited.”

Red looks down for a moment, seeming to gather himself, and when he looks up again, Ressler sees the return of the Concierge of Crime. Ressler feels a little relieved at the sight.

(He’s much more familiar with the Concierge than he is with that odd, love-struck Reddington.)

Red gets out of the car and straightens to face him, regarding him for a moment before raising a skeptical eyebrow. “And you volunteered to help Agent Keen with this little romantic endeavor? I find that hard to believe.”

Ressler snorts. “Yeah, not exactly. She blackmailed me.”

Reddington chuckles, his eyes glinting in something that looks annoyingly like pride.

Ressler rolls his eyes and turns around. “Eyes closed and hand on my shoulder, Reddington. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He waits until he feels Reddington lightly grasp his left shoulder before he starts walking forward, slowly enough that they won’t trip over each other on the uneven grassy surface. They head back towards Liz, who Ressler can see in the dim light of the setting sun and glow of flickering candles, standing by the bench and bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet.

Ressler smirks at her. She rolls her eyes at him in response.

“Donald, I’ll have you know,” Reddington speaks idly from behind him, as Ressler leads him carefully around a large rock near the bench. “If you lead me into the lake and get my $400 Armani shoes wet…I will shoot you.”

Ressler barks a short laugh. “Thanks for the warning,” he says, finally drawing them both to a stop about five paces in front of Liz. “But, unfortunately, it’s not needed. We’re here, you can open your eyes.”

Ressler shrugs out from under Reddington’s hand and moves off to the side, turning to watch Red open his eyes and take in the sight before him.

The illuminated lake. The rose petals. The champagne.

Liz.

And Ressler once again sees the appearance of the soft, vulnerable Red that made him so uncomfortable before but, when coupled with the look on Liz’s face – tentative, emotional, loving – it creates a picture that Ressler can’t quite tear his eyes away from.

Something about the blatant adoration between them is…sort of captivating.

(And, looking at his two friends so happy with each other, Ressler can’t help having the rueful thought…maybe this stupid holiday isn’t so bad, after all.)

Red is alternately looking around in awe and looking at Liz like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “Lizzie…” he murmurs.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Red,” Liz says quietly and then she’s stepping forward into Reddington’s open arms.

And they’re hugging tightly and Liz is stroking the back of his head and Reddington’s rubbing her back and they’re really pretty cute together, Ressler thinks, as he smiles fondly at them and oh – oh, now they’re kissing and –

Ew.

It’s, uh, time for him to go. Maybe he’ll catch Keen later. After Valentine’s Day.


End file.
